


Your Best Mistake

by TastieSalad



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Slow-ish burn, Smut, Swearing, demon hunter!Jaebum, incubus!Jinyoung, incubus!Mark, like a lot of it, side Yugbam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastieSalad/pseuds/TastieSalad
Summary: Jackson hadn’t meant to summon a demon—an incubus to be exact. Well, he’s not totally upset with the outcome.Mark doesn’t always get summoned into the human realm. But when he does, he expects an easy come-and-go type of job. Seems like his luck has run out this time.





	1. Time and Occasion (Prologue)

Mark takes pride in what he does, what he _is_ , even though there’s a tarnished reputation that comes with it. His kind, specifically incubi, were typically seen as lascivious, lustful, or flat out cheap creatures _—_ and that was putting it nicely. Mark has heard it all. It doesn’t faze him anymore; after all, he’s been around for a long time.

Mark thinks of it as business, because that’s what it is for him. He’s good at his job and knows it. People are mostly the same everywhere you go, whether you’re talking about humans or otherworldly beings. Everyone has desires, desires need to be sated, and that’s what Mark is there for.

As long as you know how to find him, that is. 

Unlike most of his incubi and succubi brethren, Mark is a fairly unique case. Most of his kind tend to appear in the dreams of their victims, obtaining energy from initiating in sexual encounters while the target is asleep instead of waiting to be summoned. However, being only half incubus, Mark is limited in that area. Although he considers his incubus side more dominant, Mark is still unable to enter people’s minds as easily. Since infiltrating dreams are too much of a hassle for him, he prefers doing his work physically when called. 

In reality, he’s not summoned all that often. Sure, he’s existed for a good couple centuries, but he’s not as active compared to the majority of incubi. Due to his dislike of engaging in dreams except for when he’s critically low on energy, Mark tends to appear only to those who look for him over approaching first. On top of that, his runes are quite difficult to recreate on a summoning circle, and only the most skillful contractors would be able to pull it off.

As a result, Mark ends up staying in the demon realm for much of the time. He watches his friends come and go, some of them providing him with details of their own intense experiences. He listens to them all, the variation in people and the idea of visiting the mortal realm fascinating him. Mark wonders if he’ll get to meet anyone other than some teen with too much pent up hormone induced lust (those are the common targets of incubi and succubi) or some BDSM enthusiast. Well, not that he minded. He’ll take what he can get.

It must be nice, he thinks, to just slip into someone’s mind and take what you need before leaving without a trace the next minute. Or have simpler summoning runes. Mark sighs, resting his head on his hand as Jinyoung, a full-blooded incubus, shares his story with him.

“You’re not listening, are you?”

Mark looks up. “Yes, I am. You said he had a really shitty personality, then what?” 

“So he tells me I don’t _look_ like an incubus and tries to unsummon me. Can you believe that? That’s not how it works,” Jinyoung rants on. 

“Aww, Jinyoungie, you’ll always be pretty enough to me.”

“Shut up asshole, that wasn’t what he meant. He said something about how I looked too pure, something like that. I told him I could change forms if he wanted, but the guy tells me he couldn’t unsee the form I showed up in.” 

Mark laughs lightly, “You’re anything but pure. How many times have you asked me to join a threesome with you?”

“Exactly. Anyway, I didn’t get any if you were wondering. I couldn’t convince him in the end,” the younger demon pouts. 

“Don’t be sad. There’s so many more people to choose from.”

“I know. But he was kind of hot.”

The older rolls his eyes and ruffles Jinyoung’s hair affectionately.

“Whatever.”

Suddenly, Mark feels a distant tingle in the back of his mind and the markings on his wrist begin to glow a vivid violet. The two incubi stare at it surprise. It could only mean one thing--Mark was being called.

Jinyoung is first to break the shocked silence, “This is a rare occasion.”

Mark nods absentmindedly, still in disbelief himself. When was the last time he’d been summoned? He could hardly remember the details.

“Are you going?”

He should. 

“Tell me how it goes,” Jinyoung says, voice already fading.

Mark shuts his eyes and allows himself be pulled along with the current, letting the faint tingle in the back of his mind take over and spread throughout his body. He’ll never truly get used to the feeling, the sensation of his very being disassembling into nothingness and then materializing again in the next moment. It’s simultaneously peculiar and exciting for him.

Mark wonders what kind of person had summoned him this time. Would it be some old witch or warlock with decades of experience under their belt? Or would it be some persistent individual that had spent weeks perfecting his runes to summon him? Either way, Mark couldn’t help but imagine who his newest contractor would be like, as it had been quite a while since he’d been called out of the demon realm.

Soon, voices started to draw nearer and the incubus’ eyes flutter open, feeling more alert and conscious now that the summoning process came to a close. At first, it was hard to view his surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the brightness he wasn’t used to. After a couple more blinks, Mark could finally make out the person--people?--in front of him.

“Wow, it really worked!” Someone exclaims. Mark turns his head to the side, locking eyes with the human that had spoken out of the two (not including Mark himself) in the room. The boy couldn’t be older than 16, sporting a lanky stature and thick lips.

Mark felt queasy all of a sudden. He really hoped that the boy wasn’t his contractor. Mark was a demon, but a demon with morals however loose they were, and he didn’t really enjoy the thought of sleeping with a minor. Even if that was only by Earth’s standards.

Another voice pipes up, “I don’t know Bambam, doesn’t it look kind of...different to you?”

“Well how are they _supposed_ to look, Jackson?” 

A prick of irritation brings Mark out of his daze, realizing that he still has a job to do. He clears his throat, drawing the attention of the two awestruck boys sitting in front of him. “First of all,” the incubus starts, “I’m not an ‘it’, and which one of you summoned me?”

The humans freeze, as if startled by his voice. Then, they slowly look at one another uncertainly, shrugging and making indistinct gestures Mark can’t be bothered to interpret. The incubus feels his patience start to wane every second that passes in silence.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, the brunet on the right tells him, “It was me. Well technically, it was both of our ideas, but I found the book and drew the circle thingy.”

Mark inwardly scoffs at his choice of words. Outwardly, he plasters on a teasing smile, just a subtle upward curve of his lips that he knows has his clients itching for more. “What’s your name then? Or should I just call you master?” Mark purrs, shifting into a more relaxed sitting position on the floor so that the collar of his pristine white dress shirt slips off one shoulder.

He feels a giggle bubble up inside him at the embarrassed flush creeping onto the boy’s cheeks as he struggles to form a response. Mark had never expected to be summoned by someone so endearing, and not to mention _young_. He should be insulted that a couple teenagers would be the ones to summon him despite the difficulty to do so, but it’s only a distant thought now that he’s actually here. Maybe he could have some fun doing business after all. 

“Jackson,” he coughs, “Just Jackson is fine.” The other boy snickers at his friend’s expense.

“Alright, _Jackson_ ,” Mark drawls, testing how the name rolls off his tongue. He can feel the excitement simmering beneath his skin, eager to get started already. “What can I do for you?”

Jackson gulps and Mark watches his adam’s apple bob with rapt attention. “O-Oh, uh. I need you to…” Jackson fumbles with his words, Bambam huffing in exasperation.

“We need you to fix a car,” Bambam answers for him.

At that, Mark’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He’d never expected in all his years as an incubus, that he’d be called over into the human world to repair a vehicle. He wonders if this was some recent fetish he’s never heard of. Was this what humans were into nowadays? Was this some sort of slang for something sexual? Mark wracks his brain for anything that could be helpful in this situation, but he comes up with nothing.

He stares back with a quizzical look, feeling equal parts confused and curious.

Jackson adds when he doesn’t respond, “Could you do it quickly, Sunmi-sshi? We’re kind of short on time.” 

Wait.

“Sunmi?” Mark sputters, voice finally working again.

“Yeah,”—Jackson glances at a piece of paper—“Isn’t that who you are? Sunmi the fairy?”

Mark can’t believe he’s been mistaken for a fucking _fairy_ of all things.

“No,” the demon scoffs matter-of-factly, drumming his nails against the wooden floor in annoyance, “My name is Mark, and I’m definitely not a fairy.”

The boys look at each other again in confusion like it wasn’t already obvious Mark was a demon with his pointed horns and crimson eyes. 

“Then what are you?” they ask.

“A demon,” Mark says, pointing to the horns on top of his head.

Jackson and Bambam instantly stiffen at this, Mark’s admittance seemingly unexpected news to the boys. Bambam mutters an _oh shit_ and Jackson looks like a million thoughts are currently running through his mind. They lapse into another tense silence before Bambam reluctantly breaks it. 

“By any chance, can you go back to where you came from? I think we have the wrong person…”

 _Rude_. _Not even a ‘sorry for bothering you,’_ Mark thinks. He understands how Jinyoung felt earlier. But he keeps his thoughts to himself for now.

“I can’t.”

“Is there really no way?” Jackson tries further.

Mark grins, eyes narrowing. “Not unless you sleep with me.”

“I’m out,” Bambam deadpans, shuffling out the door with barely an apologetic glance towards his friend, “Tell me when you’re done.”

The door slams shut, and then it’s only him and Mark in the small room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d appreciate comments on what you think about this so far :]


	2. Interests and Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter this time! 
> 
> Also, it's in Jackson's POV. The POV is most likely to switch throughout the story between Mark and Jackson, or it might just be Mark's POV after this. I haven't decided yet,,

Jackson hadn’t meant to wreck Jaebum’s brand new Mercedes-Benz while his hyung was on a trip to Italy for two weeks. The thing was, He had just _really_ needed a bag of Doritos from the store at 6 a.m. and his roommate’s car was conveniently waiting outside. The thought of walking briefly crossed his mind, but there was no way he’d step outside in thirty degree weather. The store was literally five minutes away by car; it’d be a quick in-and-out and what Jaebum doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Except, Bambam also decided he needed a frappuccino and more condoms (“Seriously Bam, do you and Yugyeom really need to fuck all the time? And why do you want a frappuccino in the middle of this ungodly weather?”) and invited himself along. With the two of them together, things couldn’t be worse for Jaebum’s car.

The damage wasn’t even that bad in Jackson’s humble opinion, considering it could have been much more severe than a couple scratches and a meager dent on the bumper. Alright, maybe that was a bit of an understatement, but Jackson’s sure he can get it fixed before Jaebum even knows he’d set foot near the car. At least it still worked. Honestly, the vehicle was pretty much fine to him.

“It’s totaled,” Bambam insists dramatically, taking a long sip from his mocha frappuccino like he wasn’t technically the cause of their predicament. Said car was currently back at home in the garage, covered discreetly with a sheet until Jackson and Bambam figure out what to do with it. “When Jaebum hyung gets back, remember to include me in your will,” the younger sighs.

“Okay, but who was distracting me while I was trying to make a turn? You, that’s who. Don’t even try to deny it -- you knew I’d laugh at your shitty joke, I laugh at everything. But God damn it, why would you pick to say it at that exact, crucial, moment--”

“It wasn’t even that funny! It’s not my fault you have a terrible sense of humor.”

Jackson slaps his palms down on a nearby desk, startling another student sitting a table away and earning them a glare from the librarian. “Says the guy who tells the joke in the first place,” Jackson whispers angrily. Bambam shrugs, an exaggerated movement of his shoulders, leaning against a bookcase and scrolling through his phone.

Jackson’s own phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to find a new text message from ‘JB’. _Text me when you have time,_ the message reads. Jackson can feel his blood pressure spike at the ominous words.

“Oh God, it’s him, Bambam.”

“Who?”

“Who else? It’s the guy who’s gonna kill us if we don’t get his car fixed by the end of the week.”

“Okay, stay calm…”

“I am calm!”

The librarian clears her throat, shooting them another irritated glare and the boys have the decency to look slightly sorry this time. Jackson takes a deep breath, forcing his volume down, “What do I say if he asks about his car?”

“Make something up. He shouldn’t ask about his car if he thinks its been in the garage this whole time anyway. Just don’t act weird and we’ll be fine.” The unspoken _for now_ hangs in the air, but neither of them choose to acknowledge it.

“Okay, okay, I got this,” Jackson mumbles, more to convince himself than Bambam. He opens up the app, starting to type. And no, his fingers were definitely not shaky.

 

 **Jackson** : so how’s italy so far, hyung?

meet any smoking hot italian ladies??

 

 **JB** : it’s been great.

the food here is good.

 

 **Jackson** : u ignored my other question

 

 **JB** : why are you like this

 **JB** : well, not a lady per se

 

 **Jackson** : a guy then?? omg

 

 **JB** : it wasn’t that exciting.

 

 **Jackson** : TELL ME

 

 **JB** : maybe later

 

 **Jackson** : will i ever get to meet him tho

 

 **JB** : probably not

 

 **Jackson** : -_-

 

 **JB** : oh yeah, btw

 **JB** : im coming home early. in 2 days

 

 **Jackson** : WHAT

 

 **JB** : haha ur sure happy about that, aren’t u

 

 **Jackson** : yeah… ofc hyung

 

“Well shit,” Bambam exclaims a little too loudly, almost spitting out his coffee when Jackson shows him his phone screen in defeat. “We better get started on the car.”

“How long will it take to get it fixed anyway?”

Bambam shrugs. “Let’s figure it out at your place. I wanna nap or something. Stress isn’t good for your skin,” he says.

Jackson runs a hand through his hair in aggravation but doesn’t disagree. Skin care is important, even in the midst of their inevitable doom. And it kind of makes sense, right? Even though they were grasping for straws at this point, Jackson decides they could really use a break before all hell breaks loose and they actually need to do something. Procrastination at its finest.

Just as the two were about to step out the library doors, they’re stopped by none other than the grouchy librarian woman surveilling them all morning. She eyes them up and down distastefully, “The least you could do is check out a book for all the ruckus you boys caused.”

Bambam shrugs again and Jackson sighs. Things just keep getting better and better don’t they?

 

***

 

“Why’d you pick that book? Neither of us even know how to read it.” Bambam whines the whole walk home, breath coming out in little puffs of smoke the moment it hits the icy air. He’s shaking like a leaf from the cold, and Jackson would hug him or something if he wasn’t being so unhelpful.

“I got nervous, alright? That library lady is scary as fuck. I just picked the closest book and made a run for it,” Jackson says, “I could probably understand some of it.”

“You know French, not Latin, genius.”

“They’re pretty much the _same_.”

The two leap inside Jackson’s and Jaebum’s house the second it comes into view, eager to escape the unforgiving climate outside. They probably deserve walking in the cold, Jackson thinks bitterly. But at the same time, he regrets nothing about getting to buy those five family-sized bags of chips on sale at the store.

Bambam makes a beeline for the couch and Jackson joins him after depositing the weird book in his bedroom. He’d inspected it a bit earlier, the book seeming to only contain Latin words and intricate drawings of mythical creatures on its yellowed, brittle pages. The book was something straight out of a fantasy movie, with strange markings all over the worn leather cover and a bright red silk bookmark tucked between the pages. Jackson didn’t check out books all that often, if ever, but he couldn’t help feeling that there was something odd about this one.

“So how many days until Jaebum hyung comes back?” Bambam asks him, staring intently at his phone.

“He said two. Why?”

Bambam shakes his head, looking perplexed for the first time that day and Jackson looks over, waiting for him to continue.

“Good news, it’s only $150 to repair the car’s damages.”

“How is that good news--”

“ _Bad news_ , it’s going to take a week.”

Jackson groans, flopping around on the couch, and this time Bambam looks just about as anguished as he does. “So what are we going to do?” the younger questions as their reality sinks in.

Jackson has no idea. Either he bankrupts himself or faces Jaebum’s wrath. Actually, he’ll have to face Jaebum either way, so that was just fantastic.

“Take a nap,” Jackson replies, feeling dead inside. His best friend makes a vague noise of agreement.

 

***

 

In the end, Jackson doesn’t catch a wink of sleep.

He’s attempted to count sheep, do breathing exercises he’d learned from WikiHow, turned and tossed all over the bed, and listened to Bambam snoring peacefully in the other room. Lucky bastard.

No matter how hard he tries, Jackson can’t help but feel a mixture of anxiety, guilt, and worry gnawing away at him. As much as he likes to tease and prank Jaebum, Jackson knows the older boy was quite proud of his hard earned car.

Also, Jackson can’t seem to keep his eyes off the new book he checked out at the library. It currently sits precariously on the edge of his desk, silver and gold details winking at him out the corner of his eye. Jackson doesn’t know why, but he feels the urge to pick up the book and read it now, even though he’ll only understand what half of it says, if he’s lucky.

Eventually, the urge wins and Jackson kicks off his blankets with a sigh, switching on the lights and trudging over to his desk.

“What do you want?” he asks the book, as if it would give him a decent answer.

Jackson gingerly picks up the book, afraid that it would fall apart like grains of sand in his hands. Unexpectedly, it feels quite solid and heavy for something that looks like it could have belonged to his great-grandfather, and Jackson gives the book a quick once over. Nothing new. Just the same ancient, leather-bound tome he’d spontaneously chosen.

He turns to where the bookmark is out of curiosity, revealing the meticulous sketch of a woman with elaborate butterfly wings sitting in a flowery garden. The woman reminds Jackson of one of those disney girls his niece likes so much. Was it Twinkle Bill? Tinkle Bella? Jackson’s never been good at names. On the right page, there was a picture of a circle with overlapping geometric patterns and symbols drawn onto it. For some reason, the depiction instantly captivates Jackson.

He tries reading the writing below the picture next.

 _‘Sunmi, the Faerie Queen,’_ Jackson translates to himself after a considerable amount of time, and he may or may not have used a translator tool on his phone. _Special abilities: healing and restoration_.

Jackson suddenly knows what he’s going to do.

 

***

 

About ten minutes later, Jackson has a space cleared out on his bedroom floor, a box of crayola sidewalk chalk, several candles, and a very disgruntled and disheveled Bambam sitting by his side.

“Tell me again why you woke me up from my much needed nap to do some roleplay?”

“It’s not roleplay, it’s our last resort.”

“I guess.”

“Now, help me with the candles.”

Begrudgingly, the younger does as he’s told even though he’s mumbling complaints under his breath, lighting all the candles and placing them where Jackson instructs. Meanwhile, Jackson takes his time drawing the circle with the rough crayola chalk exactly as it appears on the page of the book. Chalk dust gets everywhere--on his hands, shirt, hair, places he’d rather not talk about--and Bambam is close to falling asleep by the time he’s finished, but all in all, the circle doesn’t look half bad and Jackson counts that as a win.

All that’s left to do now is recite the written spell aloud and presto, the fairy appears and Jackson and Bambam get to live. At least, that is what should happen based on his crude translation of the book. Or nothing could happen, rendering all their hard work pointless. Jackson figures it’s worth a try anyway since they have nothing to lose.

Bambam holds up the book for him as Jackson starts reading the tiny font on the page, trying his best to pronounce the words correctly. He probably messes up a few times judging by the snickers coming from Bambam, but Jackson presses on until he reaches the very last sentence, word, and then syllable of the paragraph.

For a tense ten seconds, absolutely nothing happens. The air was so thick with anticipation you could slice it with a knife. Yet all remains still, and Jackson is ready to throw in the towel and admit defeat. Except, the circle starts glowing bright purple and _holy shit_ , the crayola chalk starts flying everywhere like they’re in the middle of a blizzard.

Jackson and Bambam shield their eyes when the violet light becomes brighter, and suddenly it wasn’t just them in the room anymore. As the dust settles, Jackson makes out an unmoving figure sitting down in the middle of the circle.

“Wow, it really worked!” Bambam shouts excitedly, leaning closer before Jackson tugs him back a safe distance.

Had it, though? Jackson eyes the most stunning boy he’s ever seen, who’s blearily blinking at them from across the circle, and he’s almost sure they summoned an angel instead of fairy. If angels came in the form of gorgeous blonde boys dressed in formal wear. The first word that comes to mind is ‘cute,’ but Jackson discards the thought quickly as possible. He shouldn’t let his guard down. He hadn’t expected the spell to be legit, let alone actually manage to summon anything or anyone. But one thing was for sure; whoever was sitting across from them now was not human.

Another thing. Sunmi sure looked different from the picture. Had he, Jackson-fucking-Wang, been _catfished_? He couldn’t believe he’d been catfished by a book, even though the stranger currently in the room is just as beautiful.

“I don’t know Bambam, doesn’t it look kind of...different to you?”

Bambam snorts. “Well how are they _supposed_ to look, Jackson?”

Before Jackson can get any words out or maybe smack Bambam upside the head for his sass, their strange guest clears his throat and directs them a look none too different from the librarian’s. “First of all, I’m not an ‘it,’ and which one of you summoned me?” he snaps.

They both freeze, Bambam shooting him a pointed look and raising an eyebrow. Jackson shrugs. He shakes his head and motions for Bambam to speak, because he can’t trust himself to talk and not mess up in front of such a good looking person right now. Of course, being the little shit he is, Bambam gives no mercy.

Jackson swallows thickly, “It was me. Well technically, it was both of our ideas, but I found the book and drew the circle thingy.”

He can feel Bambam glaring a hole into the side of his head as he says the words, but he hardly notices because the blonde is staring at him so intensely. Jackson can’t tear his gaze away from the creature’s crimson eyes and the hint of pearly, sharp teeth peeking behind a red-lipped smile. Jackson gulps. Were fairies supposed to look this dangerously attractive? Emphasis on ‘dangerous’.

The worst part is, when the boy speaks again, his voice has dropped a whole octave lower, and _fuck_ if that wasn’t hot. “What’s your name then? Or should I just call you master?” he asks, posture relaxing and shirt sliding off one shoulder. He knows what he’s doing--Jackson can see it in the satisfied smirk on his face, and he struggles not to let his eyes roam towards the newly exposed patch of skin on his torso.

“Jackson. Just Jackson is fine.” It comes out more strained than he was going for, but thankfully, Bambam doesn’t comment.

The fairy (angel? Supernatural creature?) sits up, leaning forward but not going past the lines of the circle. “Alright, _Jackson_ ,” he singsongs, “What can I do for you?”

“The car,” his friend whispers. Oh right. He’d almost forgotten about Jaebum’s car with a sad sheet draped over it in the garage, too lost in the stranger’s smooth voice and allure. He focuses on anything but the being in front of him, trying to find his voice again and hopefully form a decent sentence this time.

“O-Oh, uh. I need you to…” _To show me if the rest of you is just as beautiful as your face--_  No. Bad Jackson.

Bambam facepalms beside him. So much for a decent sentence.

“We need you to fix a car,” the younger answers, talking to the boy with far more ease than Jackson would have expected. Well, it’s out now. The car should be good as new any minute.

Instead, there’s no sudden burst of magical rainbow light or fairy dust or sparkles, or _anything_. The boy just sits there with a blank expression, looking extremely dumbfounded and impatient even as Jackson and Bambam wait expectantly. Any second now.

“Could you do it quickly, Sunmi-ssi? We’re kind of short on time,” Jackson prods, remembering to use a respectful suffix this time. They’re in a bit of a time crunch, and Jackson prefers now rather than later when Jaebum is standing right at the door and stepping into the house with murderous intent.

Recognition lights up the blonde’s eyes. “Sunmi?” he sputters incredulously, looking offended and shell-shocked at the same time.

“Yeah,” says Jackson, quickly glancing at the page of the book, “Isn’t that who you are? Sunmi the fairy?”

“No. My name is Mark,” the boy--no, _Mark_ \--scoffs. “And I’m definitely not a fairy.”

Jackson can feel his stomach drop the same time Bambam’s jaw does. “Then…” Jackson swallows again. “What are you?” they ask simultaneously.

Mark rolls his eyes and gestures to his decidedly very un-fairylike horns poking out his blonde hair. Uh oh. “A demon,” he answers with a sardonic flourish.

“Oh shit,” Bambam mutters. _Oh shit_ , Jackson agrees.

“By any chance, can you go back to where you came from? I think we have the wrong person…” his friend starts.

“I can’t.” Mark is no longer smiling, lips set in a thin line and looking a bit annoyed himself.

“Is there really no way?” Jackson tries, voice small. This was a really bad idea--why did he always have the worst ideas at the worst times? Now there’s a fucking _demon_ in his bedroom, Bambam and him might get killed by Jaebum, and if Jaebum won’t do it, Mark would probably love to since he’s a bloodthirsty, murderous, demon--

“...unless you sleep with me.”

Huh?

Bambam chokes on air and hurriedly stands up. “I’m out,” he announces, “Tell me when you’re done,” and he proceeds to book it out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Some best friend Jackson had.

“It’s just you and me now, Jackie,” he distantly hears Mark.

Jackson makes eye contact with him cautiously. And then he regrets it, because Mark has already started undoing the first few buttons of his shirt and suggestively biting his bottom lip and wasn’t that a sight to see.

“I’m going to ask again,” the demon drawls, languid and sensual to match his body language, and Jackson can barely hear over the blood rushing past his ears. The whole situation spells out danger in flashing, neon lights, but Jackson can’t help but hang on to his next words: “What can I do for you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a while to get this chapter out, I hope you like it. If you're waiting for the smut, I should be getting around to that in the next chapters!! (its a story about an incubus, ofc there's gonna be sexy times)
> 
> As usual, comments/thoughts/kudos appreciated. If you have any questions or corrections pls let me know =)


	3. Date with the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so first of all, I know this was a realllyyy late chapter.  
> School and life in general has been wild recently.  
> Anyways, here is a sorta long chapter.
> 
> P.S. I’m super grateful for all the support and kind words,, y’all are are the sweetest ;v;

_ I’m going to ask again,” the demon drawls, slow and languid to match his body language, and Jackson can barely hear over the blood rushing past his ears. The whole situation spells out danger in flashing neon lights, but Jackson can’t help but hang on to his next words: “What can I do for you?” _

  
  
  


“Is it too late to ask if you’re some kind of sex fiend or…?” Jackson inquires nervously.

Mark raises a single eyebrow. “Was I not being straightforward enough? You know, with the ‘I want to have sex’ part,” he says, “But yes. I’m what you’d call an incubus.”

An incubus, huh. Jackson was  _ pretty  _ sure he’d got the runes down and candles placed just right, but who knows. He isn’t an artist nor is he a professional. He’d have to do some more research later on what an incubus is. For now, there really needs to be something done about the current situation at hand.

One problem—he honestly does not know where to start. School has taught him all about the Pythagorean Theorem and how many chromosomes are in a gamete cell, but it’s never taught him practical things like how to deal with a demon from another plane. A very, very hot demon. Was it just him or did the temperature go up a few degrees? Because Jackson sure feels like he could combust from the wicked smile Mark was giving him. Said demon is also casually stripping on his bedroom floor. Okay, now would be a good time to step in.

“You don’t need to do that,” Jackson says quickly, flustered and probably beet red.

Mark barely listens, looking wholly unconvinced and halfway done with undoing his top. “You haven’t told me what you want, so I’m taking matters into my own hands,” he informs cheekily. Then he pauses in his ministrations. “Unless you’re a more clothed sex kind of guy?”

“That’s—I’m not—!” Jackson stops and takes a moment to collect himself. He hasn’t felt this frenzied since middle school when his hormones were in full swing. “Look, I don’t want to sleep with you,” Jackson tells him, voice firm. He makes an effort to look unaffected, willing his blush and nervousness away. He just wanted to get the damn car repaired. Funny how things turn out.

“Are you sure?” Mark wonders. The white shirt drops completely from his slim shoulders then, silky material pooling near his waistline as more skin is revealed. “Because I can smell your arousal from here.”

Jackson freezes, throat closing and losing the composure he was building up.

“Just kidding,” Mark laughs, “I can’t do that, but your reactions are amusing. Humans are amusing.”

“Glad you find my existential crisis funny,” Jackson snorts.

Mark tilts his head to the side. “But it’s not that hard, Jackson. You want me to leave, right?”

Jackson nods, albeit somewhat hesitantly. He knows he should want the demon gone. It’s supposed to be the right thing to do. Nothing good ever comes out of summoning the devil, at least, based on all the movies he’d watched. Besides, Jackson only wanted to be a good friend and fix a car in the first place.

“Then, all you have to do is sleep with me. It won’t take long, and I can appear as anything,  _ anyone  _ you choose. I know you want to. Just say the word and I’m yours,” Mark continues, scarlet eyes glowing and movements purposefully sultry. His image starts shifting—suddenly he’s Bambam, Jaebum, his ex, the girl he used to like in ninth grade, his one night stand from over a month ago, and then he’s Mark again. The demon observes him like prey, even though he’s the one stuck behind a magic circle. “Make me yours,” Mark presses on, voice impossibly saccharine and sugary.

And now, Jackson knows what it feels like to be tempted by the devil. 

Against his better judgement, his resolve starts crumbling anyway. Jackson is suddenly compelled to take the incubus up on the offer, much like his impulsive urge with the spellbook before, something unnatural pulling and dragging him over like a magnet against his will. It’s as if he’s caught in a trance, drifting further and further away from his doubts the more his gaze lingers on Mark. 

There’s just something about his eyes, his red, red, piercing eyes and how they glimmer so ethereally. Everything about Mark in this moment is so enticing and barely an arm’s length away. He can hardly form thoughts about anything else, all rational thinking fading to static noise and replaced by an overwhelming need to sate his lust. Why should he be careful, again? He doesn’t need to be, does he? Mark is right there. He’s willing. He wants it.  _ Take _ him—

Jackson’s phone rings and the spell is shattered into a million pieces. A good five seconds pass before he belatedly registers the blaring ringtone, picking up the device and answering it. “Hello?” he greets dazedly.

_ “Hey.” _ It was Jaebum.

“Ah, hyung! What’s up?” Jackson responds, relieved to hear a familiar voice.

_ “I just remembered I ordered a package a few days ago. Could you check if it’s arrived yet?”  _

Jackson answers with faux annoyance, “Wow, good to hear from you too. And yeah I’ll check on it for you.”

_ “Don't be like that Jacks, you know I love hearing from my favorite dongsaeng.”  _ Jaebum says it seriously, although Jackson is pretty sure he's holding back a laugh.

“Whatever. I’m only a few months younger than you…”

_ “Sure, sure. Anyway _ ,  _ I’ll be home by tomorrow hopefully. See you then.” _

“See you hyung.” 

Jackson presses the red button, ending the call.

“So, where were we?” Mark’s smooth voice comes not a second later. 

Jackson is prepared this time. “Don’t,” he says, making sure not to meet the demon’s eyes. Mark had put some sort of spell on him, that he was certain of. He still feels uncomfortable and tingly all over, heart hammering in his chest like he’d just woken up from a bad dream. “You did something, didn’t you?” Jackson points out, something akin to anger simmering inside him. “I don’t know how it is in your world, but consent is pretty important here.”

Jackson doesn’t mean to lash out or accuse. Mostly he’s cautious again. Hell, he’s scared even. But, he also felt taken advantage of, violated even though Mark hadn’t physically laid a finger on him. It still felt like something had intruded his mind and made decisions without his consent, erasing all notion of self-preservation. He should have known things would end badly despite how innocent and harmless Mark may seem. This was still a demon sitting in front of him; dangerous, unpredictable, and definitely not what Jackson is used to. 

He risks a glance back at the other, careful not to make direct eye contact. Mark, surprisingly, looks immensely vexed, similar to a scolded child, lips pursed and all traces of playfulness wiped from his face. The incubus looks unsure of himself for the first time, and if Jackson hadn’t known any better, he’d be tempted to let his guard down. 

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Mark mumbles finally, sounding genuinely taken aback. He’s staring at the floor too, and Jackson almost feels bad for accusing him. He doesn’t immediately cave this time though, because for all he knows it could be another trick to deceive. Right now, he needs to get out of here, find something to do that won’t have his heart palpitating or insides feeling like they might melt. 

Jackson sighs, making an effort to get up. “Forget it. I’ll be back soon. I need to check on something. You can’t move from the circle, correct?”

Mark still looks like a dejected puppy, all sad eyes and fidgety fingers, but he nods anyway in silence. Thankfully, his shirt has somehow found its way back on and Jackson is able to think properly now. 

Before he exits the room though, perhaps he wanted some sort of revenge on Mark for nearly causing him multiple heart attacks. “Be a good boy until I get back,” Jackson adds. He considers it a victory when Mark’s cheeks redden and he’s the one gaping in surprise for once.

“So, you got laid?” Bambam calls from across the room the moment his friend steps out.

“I can’t believe that’s the only thing you’re worried about,” Jackson sniffs, padding over to the front door. “And no, I’m not going to get down and dirty with someone I just met.” 

“Could’ve fooled me. What about that guy from a month ago?”

“That was  _ different. _ It was a one night stand and we were drunk. Like, fucking trashed. I could taste colors at one point.”

Jackson ignores Bambam’s noise of disapproval in favor of checking the front to see if any packages had been dropped off yet. He cracks the door open, shivering as a gust of frozen air hits him square in the face. Jaebum’s mail was there alright, a plain medium cardboard box sitting innocently enough on the ground, but his hyung failed to mention just how heavy the package was. The box might as well contained a dozen bricks or Bambam’s entire shoe collection, because  _ man _ was the thing a bitch to move.

With more effort than should be necessary to carry a box, Jackson finally manages to drag the hefty package inside without breaking into a complete sweat and freezing to death outside. He wonders what on earth Jaebum could have ordered online that would weigh that much. He hopes the older wasn’t doing anything illegal, but who really knows when it comes to him?

“Hey Bam, you wanna help me figure out what’s inside Jaebum’s mail? C’mon, I know you like snooping around people’s stuff,” Jackson starts, only to stop dead in his tracks when he finds his younger friend close to tears on the couch, eyes wide and staring blankly at his phone. Jackson immediately realizes something is wrong. He rushes over to ask what’s the matter.

“It’s Yugyeom,” Bambam chokes out, “He’s in the hospital.”

 

***

 

The two end up taking a cab to the hospital, Jackson accompanying Bambam, because hell if he was going to let his friend face everything alone. When they arrive at their stop, Bambam jumps out with Jackson not far behind, telling the driver to keep the change. 

They’ve been in the waiting room for nearly twenty minutes now, Bambam nervously fidgeting in his seat and eyes darting around their monochrome surroundings. Everywhere they looked was more or less white--white walls, white fluorescent lights, white uniforms. It doesn’t do anything to soothe Bambam’s nerves. He’d gotten the news earlier that his boyfriend was hospitalized, but he doesn't know what  _ exactly _ had happened besides the fact that Yugyeom suffered a concussion.

“What if he doesn’t remember anything? What if he doesn’t remember  _ me? _ ” Bambam worries next to Jackson, eyes watery. “I think I’m going to cry again. Oh God, I look hideous when I cry. What if my ugly face is the first thing he sees when he wakes up?” 

Jackson puts an arm around his friend in an attempt to comfort the boy, shushing him and gently patting his back. He doesn’t know much about the situation either. “Take a deep breath, Bam. I’m positive he’ll be alright. Yugyeom has the thickest skull I know.”

The jab manages to squeeze a tiny laugh out of Bambam, who thankfully seems more placated now. Bambam admits, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I came.”

A nurse holding a clipboard suddenly approaches them. “Are you two here for Kim Yugyeom?”

They nod in response.

“You can go see him in room 107. The doctors are done with him now,” She says, and Jackson has never ran down a (fortunately empty) hallway that fast before, Bambam trailing behind hot on his heels.

It turns out Yugyeom is more than okay, if the delighted sound he lets out when the boys enter is anything to go by. He’s dressed in a pale blue hospital gown with bandages wrapped around his head and has an IV in his arm, but other than that, their friend looks and sounds perfectly fine. 

“What happened?” Jackson wonders aloud. Bambam is currently ugly sobbing onto his boyfriend’s shirt and hugging the life out of him, though careful to not cause further injuries.

Yugyeom waves away his concerns. “It wasn’t anything too bad. I just got hit by a biker when I was walking home from dance practice and hit my head when I fell.”

“You what?” Bambam wails, clinging harder to him. 

“Ow--but I’m okay now, see? The doctors said I should be out by next week after they’re done with all the check-ups and stuff. Now as much as I love you, could you maybe stop squeezing me to death, Bam?” 

The Thai boy shakes his head, crying louder. “You idiot! Be more careful! I was so worried...”

Jackson thinks it’s his cue to leave as Bambam and Yugyeom start making out on the bed. He hastily notifies them of his departure and steps out the room. Hopefully, the two know better than to have hospital sex.

Speaking of sex, Jackson remembers a very perverted demon he still has to deal with, and just the thought of it makes his blood run cold. Endless scenarios are swirling around in his head as he strides down the hospital corridor, where somehow the demon has escaped and is now on the loose around his neighborhood, or even worse, Mark had lied about not being able to leave the circle in the first place. It’s starting to make Jackson slightly dizzy, so he rushes to catch a ride back home to see for himself.

Jackson thanks and pays the taxi driver once he reaches his destination, speed walking up to the front door and fumbling with the keys in his jacket pocket. He finally manages to get the door open and enters cautiously, ears straining to listen for terrorized screaming or windows breaking or demonic voices. But there’s only silence. The house is exactly the same as he’s left it when he flicks the light on, nothing out of order in the living room at least. All he has to do now is check his bedroom. 

Jackson cracks the door open as stealthily as he can, peeking around the corner first. The lights are still on and nothing seems to be in disarray, so he figures it’s safe to pull the door back all the way. 

Jackson expects the worst, expects to be met with an empty circle and no trace of Mark, but he freezes when he finds said incubus on the floor curled up like a kitten, eyes closed and snoring softly, still very much there. He’s changed out of his silky dress shirt and slacks in favor of a red oversized hoodie, black shorts, and socks.  _ He must have been waiting for a long time,  _ Jackson thinks remorsefully. The total time the trip to the hospital and back took more than an hour, and Mark had most likely been stuck in the cramped circle the whole time. Jackson suddenly feels like the villain.

He briefly teases the thought of just leaving so he won’t have to deal with the resulting guilt, but fuck it, he’s not that kind of guy. Sometimes he thinks that he’s too soft for his own good, but there was no way he’d make someone sleep on the floor, whether they were a demon or not. So before he can regret anything, Jackson brushes away a large portion of the chalk with his hand.

“Hey,” Jackson whispers, kneeling down beside Mark’s form. From their proximity, Jackson can make out the fine details of the demon’s sleeping face. And that’s it—there’s officially no denying he’s handsome now. Dark lashes frame Mark’s closed eyes, and high cheekbones and rosy, plush lips add to his ethereal beauty. Jackson wonders if his lips would feel as soft as they look. He forcefully pushes the thought away.

Jackson tries again when Mark doesn’t stir, nudging at his shoulder gently. “Mark.”

This time, the demon’s eyes do flutter open, blinking slowly up at him before recognition dawns on his face. “You’re back,” he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes drowsily.

“I’m back,” Jackson confirms. “Sorry, I got caught up in something.”

Mark simply grins at that. “It’s alright. I’ve been a good boy, just like you told me.”

Jackson nods absently, throat suddenly feeling dry. Mark is seriously not good for his health he concludes. “Yeah. You can sleep on the bed if you want. Uh, I’m sure the floor wasn’t that comfortable.”

The demon’s face morphs into shock, before he glances down and notices a part of the chalk circle missing, allowing him to leave the restricted area if he so chose to. Mark looks at the empty space and then back at Jackson, and then back at the space. A happy look creeps onto his face. “I’d like that,” he says, pleased. Then, he’s planting a chaste kiss onto the corner of Jackson’s mouth before he can even react.

“You—” He starts, eyes going comically wide and cheeks heating up. His voice dies as Mark shoots him a cheeky wink and dives deep into his bed, disappearing below the thick comforter and pillows. 

Another time, Jackson supposes. He’ll get him back another time.

 

***

 

“I lied,” Mark pipes up out of nowhere. Jackson is currently searching up the nearest auto repair shops on his laptop while Mark lazes next to him on the couch. The demon had migrated to the living room after he woke up, Jackson ultimately giving in to guilt and letting him freely roam the entire house as long as he promised not to cause any trouble. Thankfully, his temporary roommate had not brought up any more R-rated requests. Mark is staring at a spot on the ceiling, hugging an oversized cushion to his chest as silence fills the room.

“About?” Jackson eventually prompts.

“About having to sleep with you to leave.”

Jackson hums distractly, cursing under his breath as he finds another car repair fee above $200. “So why don’t you go?” he wonders, “Earth can’t be that exciting.”

Mark turns around then, sheepishly rubbing at his neck. “Well, it’s been a long time since I had a chance to come back to the human plane, or a chance to leave the demon realm at all. About twenty years in human terms, to be exact. So actually, Earth is a nice change from the literal hell I’m always in. I was hoping to  _ do _ something here you know? Even if that just meant sleeping with you.”

Jackson eyes him weirdly, wanting to say something, but Mark is already continuing on. “All I really need is some type of sexual contact for 15 seconds, so kissing will do just fine,” he says conversationally, waving a causal hand around as if he were discussing the weather.

Jackson freezes, fingers still hovering over his laptop mid-type. “Uh…” he begins intelligently.

“Come on, it’s better than sleeping with me, right?” And maybe Jackson is imagining it, but there’s a hint of bitterness to the incubus’ voice.

Jackson sighs. “Look, Mark. It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you because the idea disgusts me; in fact, I think you’re very se— _ attractive _ , but we’d be moving way too fast—jumping into the sex and all,” he explains. “And in my opinion, I don’t think that’s fair for either of us.”

“But that’s the whole reason incubi are summoned. For sex,” Mark grumbles.

“I wasn’t intentionally trying to summon you, though.”

“ _ Irrelevant _ at this point. I don’t know how you managed to do it, but you did, and now here we are. So, are you gonna shut up and kiss me or what?”

“A date first,” Jackson blurts, surprising them both. 

The room lapses into awkward silence. The demon blinks, a retort previously ready on the tip of his tongue dissipating. “A date?” he parrots instead, expression twisting in confusion like the very word was foreign to him.

“Yeah. What do you say?”

Mark suddenly bursts into a fit of giggles, curling up around himself on the couch as he laughs into the pillow. Jackson should feel offended that his offer is basically being written off as something apparently hilarious, but he can’t when Mark looks like he’s genuinely having a good time. Fortunately, Mark explains himself once he gets his breath back. “Sorry—it’s just—this is the first time I’ve been asked out instead of being thrown onto a bed the moment I’m summoned. Maybe it’s not humans that are amusing, it’s  _ you _ .”

“I think I should be offended right now,” Jackson smirks.

“Well, don’t be. It’ll ruin the mood for our date,” Mark says, grinning so wide his sharp canines are on full display.

As Mark turns around and roams off somewhere, telling him to get ready before he changes his mind, Jackson tries not to imagine about how those teeth would feel sinking into his skin or tugging at his bottom lip.

 

***

 

“Are you done yet—oh.”

Jackson is in the middle of picking an outfit when Mark decides to wander in. Well, ‘wander in’ would be the wrong words to use. He doesn’t wander in as much as he outright  _ bursts _ into the room, Jackson nearly tripping over himself from the sudden slam of the door. Although he’s glad to see that the demon is taking their date seriously so far, he’s not as glad that Mark has just barged in when he has nothing on except briefs and a towel hanging around his neck, fresh out the shower.

“Couldn’t you have knocked?” Jackson complains, throwing open his wardrobe after his heartbeat returns to normal and rummaging through the various hoodies, track pants, and snapbacks he owned. He raises an eyebrow when Mark doesn’t reply, opting to linger silently in the doorway as Jackson pulls on a pair of black jeans.

“You good?” Jackson waves his hand in front of his date, seeming to snap the other out of his daze. 

“Oh. Of course.” Jackson smirks, not missing the way Mark flushes a subtle shade of pink, eyes distractedly raking over his unclothed upper half before looking away. “What’s taking you so long, anyway?” Mark mutters.

Jackson snorts. “Sorry I can’t just magically will a change of clothes into existence,” Jackson says sarcastically, putting on a grey sweater and black coat over it. “By the way, we’re walking. The place I have in mind isn’t too far from here, and well, we can’t drive obviously.” 

He checks his hair in a nearby mirror and gives it a few haphazard combs with his fingers, stray droplets of water landing on the glass. He catches Mark’s reflection in the mirror, seeing him dressed up and ready to go as well. The incubus isn’t in anything too formal like last time; instead, he’s clad in a simple white t-shirt, dark jeans, denim jacket, and his horns are not present. The casual clothing looks far better on him than it should have, although strangely enough, his getup doesn’t look suitable for winter whatsoever. Was it a demon thing to have no concept of the weather? Must be nice, Jackson thinks.

Jackson steps back when he’s done with the mirror, turning his attention to the demon leaning against the door. “Shall we?” Jackson says as he extends a hand towards Mark. Mark looks at it for a second unblinkingly, and Jackson almost expects him to forgo hand holding (an absolute must-have on a date, according to himself) altogether, but Mark eventually interlaces their fingers, chuckling nervously. The demon’s hand is unnaturally warm, but Jackson isn’t complaining.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend before,” Jackson teases when Mark turns pink from the simple gesture of holding hands. 

“Shut up. Where are we going?” Mark changes the subject, pulling Jackson along and practically throwing open the front door. Cold air immediately blasts into the house, but Mark doesn’t even bat an eye.

“A cafe I’ve been going to since forever. You’ll like it,” Jackson assures, pulling his coat on more securely around him.

Mark hums, not listening to Jackson as much as he’s taking in the sight of the empty neighborhood and clear, cloudless sky, staring at everything in awe like it’s the first time he’s seen it. It might very well be--Mark has mentioned that he hasn’t visited Earth in a long while. He’s cute, that much Jackson can admit. Who knew a literal demon could be so reminiscent of a little kid, but that’s what comes to Jackson’s mind in the moment he watches Mark take in his surroundings.

Unfortunately, Mark is so distracted that he doesn’t see a car speeding down the street towards him, and Jackson barely yanks him back in time before he gets hit. The force sends them both toppling down onto the sidewalk, Mark clumsily landing on top of Jackson.

“What the fuck, Mark?” he pants, heart hammering in his chest from the near accident and backside aching from impact with the concrete, “You could have gotten killed!” Jackson can’t help but shout; a lot worse might have happened had Jackson not been observant enough to spot the careless driver and grab onto Mark. In a matter of seconds he could have lost him, just like that.

The other looks a bit taken aback himself, eyes belatedly following the vehicle disappearing in the distance. “That wouldn’t have killed me,” Mark assures eventually. He shifts in Jackson’s lap, and the younger winces while the demon’s smug expression doesn’t change. Mark knows what he’s doing. “You were worried. Didn’t you want me gone, though?” he teases further.

Jackson shakes his head with a frown, getting up and pulling Mark along with him. He grasps the demon’s hand tightly, as if Mark would get into more trouble the second he’d let go. “Stop thinking that way, because it’s not like that. Anyway, having my date run over would have  _ really  _ ruined the mood, so I’d rather avoid more accidents.”

“Kiss me and I’ll be careful.”

Mark laughs, a light and bell-like sound, and Jackson does not blush. “Later,” he promises, “I’ll think about it.”

 

***

 

It turns out Jackson was right about the part where it’s Mark’s first time seeing everything in the mortal plane, because every five minutes he would either brighten up in curiosity or scowl in confusion, and occasionally shriek at a sprinkler going off. 

“Oh my Lucifer, what is  _ that?” _ Mark whispers scandalously for the upteenth time. Jackson sighs, almost afraid to see what has caught his attention now. It had taken approximately twenty minutes to even get to their destination, nearly double the usual amount of time required, because Mark insisted on stopping every instance he heard an odd noise or something quote on quote “looked at him funny”, which included several birds, elderly people with walkers, and a few lawn pinwheels. At one point, Jackson had to stop Mark from shoving his bare hand into an ant pile. 

When they finally arrived at the cafe, it had taken another five minutes to convince Mark to wait for him at a table and  _ no,  _ he could not touch the cashier’s bald head (“But it’s so shiny--” “I’m begging you, just sit down.”). To say Jackson was exhausted was an understatement. Also cold. Very, very cold.

His date currently has his eyes trained on a TV on the wall, mouth agape as a soccer match plays on the screen. “There are tiny humans in it. Can I have it?” A wailing baby suddenly catches his attention, the demon’s head snapping around at the shrill noise. “Nevermind. I want that one more,” Mark decides while shoving his mouth full of vanilla cake, pointing his plastic fork menacingly toward said baby. Jackson facepalms. 

“What’s the matter?” Mark asks, inhaling another piece of dessert. 

Jackson waves him off. “Nothing. It’s just that, I wish you’d do more date-y things with me instead of wanting to keep anything that moves or makes sound,” the younger pouts.

Mark only stares at him quizzically. “We  _ have _ been doing date stuff. We held hands, you saved my life, and we’re sharing a milkshake as we speak.” He takes a sip out of the sweet drink for emphasis. “Did I miss something?”

“I know,” Jackson claps his hands together, face brightening up in a grin. “Let’s get to know eachother. I ask you a question, and you ask me one.”

“That sounds boring. Tell me Jackson, do all humans resort to such stale activities during courtship?”

“No, and that was your first question.”

“What--”

“My turn,” Jackson interrupts, covering Mark’s mouth with his hand as the demon glares back at him. “How old are you?”

Mark hums thoughtfully, seeming to humor him for now at least. “You are a child to me,” he says, giving a lick to Jackson’s palm, amused when the younger’s face scrunches up and he pulls back. “I’m over two centuries old in your time.”

“Why did you have to word it so weirdly?” Jackson comments. “Should I call you grandpa?” he adds, snickering.

“I’d prefer you call me ‘daddy’ or something cute like ‘kitten’. But whatever floats your boat, I suppose.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “You wish. Now ask me a question,” he continues, not wanting to linger any more on the thought. 

“Who lives with you? I could smell another human in your home. A lover perhaps?”

“If I had someone, I wouldn’t be on this date with you, genius. It’s just my roommate and friend who’s away right now.”

“I see. Their scent is quite... _ off _ ,” the demon remarks offhandedly, and Jackson wonders whatever the hell that could mean. Maybe Mark is just too polite to say Jaebum stinks, who knows? He ignores it for now, chalking it up to another demon thing he probably wouldn’t understand. 

“Okay next question,” he moves on. “How are you not cold in that outfit? I thought demons would hate the cold.” It’s a question that’s been bothering Jackson all day as they walked in freezing temperatures to the cafe without Mark shivering even just a little. On top of that, the guy was basically a walking hot pack, his body temperature much higher than any human’s.

“I don’t know where you got that idea, but it’s probably because I’m part fire demon. I’m not as affected by the cold like full-blooded incubi are.” A smile is brought to Mark’s face as his thoughts shift to Jinyoung, who would probably hate it here. The younger would no doubt loathe the cold weather and throw a fit if he ever visited Seoul, preferring areas with a more moderate climate year round instead. He wonders if Jinyoung is currently getting it on with some human, being the textbook example of an incubus, unlike  _ him _ . Though somehow, Mark finds that he isn’t upset about not fulfilling his job. 

Actually, he might be enjoying himself. Mark opens his mouth as Jackson spoon feeds him some of his strawberry parfait. He makes sure to take his time licking the whipped cream off the spoon, lips wrapping around the plastic utensil and tongue lapping at the underside before Jackson yanks it back, face resembling a tomato. Scratch that, Mark is definitely enjoying himself. 

“You’re cute,” Mark observes, resting his head on his hand while Jackson sputters.

“You’re the one that’s cute.”

“Oh? Now you’re flirting with me?”

“Don’t push it,” Jackson sighs. He stands up from his chair, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Let’s go back. I still need to figure out what to do with the car...”

Mark almost throws a fit about leaving his sweets behind, but the prospect of holding Jackson’s hand again on the way home has him keeping quiet. However, the prospect of Jackson kissing him and sending him back brings an unexpected amount of dread. A certain coldness settles in his bones, and Mark is suddenly uncertain for the first time.

He realizes that maybe, just  _ maybe _ he doesn’t want to finish the job yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions/questions/thoughts? 
> 
> I honestly don’t want them to do the dirty yet and focus on more plot (for once), so I’ll be working on it lol. But I assure you, it will come (^;


	4. And They Were Roommates...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the huge delay in the update! =( But I'm back for now, and I managed to finish another chapter (a miracle, I know).  
> Thank you so much for the continuous support everyone!! I truly do appreciate it.

Jackson wakes up the sweatiest he’s ever been in his entire life, the sheets sticking uncomfortably to him like a second skin and his throat dry as the Sahara Desert. He feels like he’s been stuck in a furnace, and something was huddled snugly against his chest and feeling up his leg in said furnace. Or should he say, _someone._ From where the blanket is pulled up to Jackson’s shoulders, tufts of light hair poke out from underneath, along with a pair of conspicuous black horns. Jackson yelps and reflexively kicks out in surprise, not used to sharing a bed with anyone other than himself. The body sleeping—that _was_ sleeping—tumbles off the mattress unceremoniously, landing on the wooden floor with such a loud thump Jackson almost actually feels guilty.

“Good morning to you too, asshole,” comes Mark’s unimpressed groan. The demon sits up, hand rubbing at the minor injury to his head and a prominent scowl etched on his face. Mark looks irritated to no end, and maybe Jackson should be wary of a pissed off creature from hell, but all he can think about his how harmless and very undemonlike Mark looks in his choice of sleepwear, which included an oversized t-shirt and pastel pink shorts. Thank God he was wearing clothes. Jackson wasn’t sure what he’d do if he woke up in bed with Mark naked beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Jackson exclaims, hand placed over his racing heart. It takes him every ounce of effort not to shriek like a little girl finding a cockroach beneath her feet.

Mark shrugs. “Well, you never sent me back.”

“No shit. What are you doing _here,_ in my room?”

“Don’t you remember?”

Jackson pauses, searching his brain for anything that might be useful.

The day before, after he’d sent Jaebum’s car away for repairs (total costs ended up around $100; he could still feel the amount burning a hole through his pocket) the moment he got home from the cafe. Bambam was nowhere to be seen, so Jackson had simply assumed he’d returned to his own apartment or stayed a night at the hospital with Yugyeom, but he’d sent a quick text in case. Not that his friend would bother checking if he did turn out to be with Yugyeom, anyway.

Jackson and Mark had walked home in relative peace, thankfully with less distraction on Mark’s part as Jackson insisted on keeping a better eye on him, much to the demon’s dismay. The temperature had dropped even further during their stay inside the cafe, but the walk wasn’t terribly long and Jackson could take a few gusts of chilly air.

Afterwards… well, that was when his memory started getting foggy. He remembers shrugging his coat off once he entered the house and then subsequently being hit with a sudden wave of dizziness, despite not drinking any alcohol that day and having taken a nap a few hours prior. Jackson figured it wasn’t anything to sweat over. Probably just the mental toll of summoning a demon and finding out Yugyeom was hospitalized in the same day. Jackson vaguely recalls making his way to the bedroom, where he presumably fell asleep.

That still doesn’t explain why Mark is in his bed, though. Mark never seems to answer his biggest questions directly.

The incubus clambers back on the mattress like nothing had happened and reburies himself beneath the sheets, paying no mind to the glare directed at him. Jackson would push him off again if he had the energy.

Jackson, however, does manage to sit up, heaving an annoyed sigh. He’s typically a consistent early bird and morning person, but a glance at the clock tells him it’s 11 p.m, four hours later than the time he would’ve liked to wake up at. Luckily, he doesn’t have classes.

“Look, I don’t remember much of yesterday, and I sure as hell don’t know why you're in my room. Are you going to be helpful and tell me what happened or not?” he snaps, a growing migraine amplifying his irritation. Mark reels back a little, peering at him in a pensive manner. Though, he doesn’t seem particularly angry at Jackson’s outburst.

“Someone’s cranky,” the blonde notes simply. “I think you’re sick.”

“Huh?” Jackson replies, blinking slowly. Come to think of it, he might be. He does feel pretty shitty. His head hurts, and making the wrong move has the room whirling around him.

Mark nods. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you’re showing signs of a mild fever. A common human bodily response to a cold or other type of infection,” he explains a bit smugly.

“You search that up on WebMD yourself?” Jackson teases weakly.

“What is a ‘WebMD’?”

The human shakes his head, remembering that Mark is way behind the times. “Nevermind, just let me get out of bed and take some Ibuprofen or something. My head is killing me.”

Except, Jackson learns the hard way (again) that Mark is horrible at following directions. Or he just likes to make everyone’s life harder. Instead of moving out of the way, the incubus does quite the opposite, crawling into his personal space with a small smile and probably bad intentions.

“Did you know a kiss makes it all better?” Mark asks.

Jackson rolls his eyes. He can feel the telltale warmth of his cheeks heating up, whether from embarrassment or the fever, he doesn’t know. Mark’s unfairly attractive face is getting closer, and Jackson finds that he doesn’t have the strength or space left to move away.

But somehow, he manages to hold the demon back at arm’s length the last second. Mark huffs in annoyance. “Fine,” he growls. Before Jackson can even blink, Mark has hopped off the bed and made it out the door, Jackson’s mind still lagging behind the sudden change in situation. He faintly panics about the demon’s disappearance, but he soon hears the sink in the kitchen turn on and footsteps returning. Mark re-enters with a glass of water, tail flicking impatiently behind him.

A tail.

Ah, so _that_ was what was feeling him up under the sheets.

Jackson accepts the drink when Mark hands it over, though his eyes are trained on the thin, wispy black tail spouting from behind the demon. “You have a tail,” Jackson observes aloud, having the urge to touch the unusual appendage. Mark looks nonchalant, bored. “And you’ve only just now noticed,” he sighs in exasperation, “You are impossible. Drink the water, human.”

Jackson does as he’s told, the cool liquid instantly soothing his throat as it goes down. The water does a good job of clearing his head just a little, as well as cooling him off. He finishes the glass, placing it on the nightstand and then turning back to the incubus. “Thanks,” Jackson says, truly having not expected the other to do such a thoughtful gesture. Amusement, and a bit of pride, slips into Mark’s expression. He laughs, “I think we both know a better way to thank me.” Then he’s back on the bed in an instant, giving no chance for any last minute doubts as he invades Jackson’s space once again. Only this time, Jackson lets him.

Mark makes his intentions wholly apparent from the start, swiping his tongue over a full, rosy bottom lip and staring directly into the younger’s eyes. A certain hunger simmers beneath the demon’s own darkening crimson irises, and Jackson is briefly reminded that Mark is not human in any sense of the word, no matter how much he can look or act like one. Mark closes their distance gracefully, a sort of practiced seduction, movements calculated and on purpose similar to that of a feline. When Jackson doesn’t reject his advances, Mark makes himself at home atop the younger’s legs, resting comfortably on his lap. “Don’t I get a reward, _Master?_ ” he all but purrs.

Jackson is really going to lose his mind.

Even though he just drank some water moments ago, Jackson’s throat feels parched all over again. They’re so close now that the heat and scent radiating from the blonde is overwhelming. The subtle aroma of cherries, honey, and something else in the mix he can’t quite place fills Jackson’s nose when Mark leans in, attempting to coax a response out of him. He doesn’t have to try very hard. It could be the fever talking, or maybe it was how good Mark looks in a plain t-shirt and shorts, but Jackson isn’t nearly as opposed to making out with a semi-stranger as he was yesterday.

The issue of consent still remained somewhat in the back of his mind, but Jackson would be lying if he said he didn’t want Mark in a way that was non-platonic. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel anything at the cafe--the tentative way Mark held his hand like it was completely new to him, the way his eyes lit up at seeing the sweets in the display case, and _God_ , the way he lapped cake icing off his spoon, knowing _exactly_ the effect it would have on him--it made Jackson’s insides burn with a desire he hadn’t felt in a while.

Besides, he did technically promise Mark, and Jackson was not one to break promises.

Mark hums in mild surprise as Jackson grips his waist with one hand and tangles the other in his hair. The demon eagerly reciprocates the hold, slinging his arms around Jackson’s neck. “Fifteen seconds,” Mark murmurs, “Are all I need.” But Jackson hardly hears it, too busy covering the incubus’ lips with his own.

The kiss starts off slow and a little unsteady. It takes Jackson a second to actually register what was happening. They’re _kissing._ It’s not anywhere near his first, but it definitely feels like it. The demon’s lips, like the rest of him, are soft and warm, contrasting with Jackson’s slightly chapped ones. Metaphorical sparks are flying, and a tingly sensation creeps along Jackson’s stomach like a lit fuse. It’s only a matter of time before he catches fire and combusts.

Somewhere along the line, hands begin to roam more confidently and tongues started to get involved. Jackson bites down on Mark’s plump bottom lip, pleased when a quiet moan is elicited from him. He repeats the action, slipping his tongue inside the moment he’s granted entrance and sliding a hand under Mark’s shirt. The demon shivers at the sensation, arching into the firm caress. “You’re so pretty,” Jackson breathes absentmindedly, pressing small kisses to the other’s neck. He doesn’t realize what he’s said until it’s too late, but thankfully, the demon takes the praise kindly. Mark grips his hair like a lifeline, “Yeah?”

Everything becomes hotter as Mark grinds down on his clothed erection, the friction causing a jolt of pleasure to surge up his spine. He was already sporting a semi from the bare stimulation of their makeout session, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on. Not that Mark seems to mind; on the contrary, he looks quite pleased. He smirks and continues to roll his hips in a way that drives Jackson mad, the younger having to muffle his own sounds by roughly biting Mark’s neck. “ _Fuck,_ ” the demon whines, blunt nails digging into Jackson’s shoulder. And if _that_ wasn’t the most arousing thing Jackson has heard all week. A sense of urgency overtakes him, and he shoves a hand between Mark’s parted legs to find that he’s hard as well. The thin fabric of the incubus’ shorts leaves very little up for imagination.

“I think your fifteen seconds are done…” Mark gasps, face flushed and hips jumping slightly at the contact, although he doesn’t sound like he wants to stop anytime soon. Coincidentally, Jackson doesn’t either.

“Shut up,” he says, and Jackson proceeds to silence him with a kiss. When they break apart, the older’s pupils are dilated, eyes cloudy but very much aware. He looks almost feral, as if something has snapped in him.

“You wanna do it, then? Wanna fuck me so hard I can still feel you after you’ve sent me away? You wanna know how I sound screaming out your name until my voice turns hoarse? I’ll let you do it. Come here and fuck me up, _Jackson.”_

Mark says it like a taunt, but it turns Jackson on anyway. The demon is smiling wide despite how out of breath he sounds, all sharp, pearly white rows of teeth and pink, blushing cheeks. He already knows the answer. For the ones that count, Mark never asks a question he doesn’t already know the exact response to, and that’s just another thing Jackson _should_ be wary of.

But Jackson isn’t too concerned right now. Instead, the human answers him by pushing him onto his back, grinding their hips together heatedly, tearing a moan out of them both. Mark’s eager hands are everywhere on him at once--his shoulders, back, chest--trying his best to get the other’s shirt off him to no avail. “For a demon whose existence is centered on sex, I’d thought you’d be better at this,” Jackson chuckles when the older struggles for the third time with removing an article of clothing. Mark seems flustered. “It’s been a while,” he admits, “but I know you’ll take care of me.”

Needless to say, they don’t talk much more after that, too caught up in the intensifying moment and building anticipation in their bodies. Eventually, Mark manages to rid the younger of all his clothes, and he himself is left naked on the bed in no time. The complete expanse of his light, flawless skin is on display then, save for the smattering of violet around his neck. Jackson can’t resist marring him further. He sucks more bruises onto the other’s body, starting from his collarbone and trailing downward. Mark lets out a breath when he feels teeth graze the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh, and that’s all the warning he gets before Jackson bites down, hard. It’s not enough draw blood, but the demon jolts like he’s been electrocuted anyway, tensing and panting below Jackson. The younger licks the minor wound afterwards and repeats the action to adjacent patches of skin.

“Touch me,” Mark whimpers after a while, growing impatient of Jackson’s prolonged teasing and attention to all parts of his body except his cock. He squirms in an attempt to find friction against his neglected erection. It stands proudly between his thighs, flushed, dripping precum from the tip, and left wholly ignored.

Jackson murmurs, “I am touching you.” The incubus growls, bucking his hips upwards restlessly. “You know what I meant.”

Finally, _finally_ , Jackson takes hold of his leaking cock, swiping a thumb across the tip and sliding his hand along the shaft in firm yet unhurried strokes. Mark mewls at the sensation, happy to receive some level of release from the ache in his lower half, grasping onto Jackson’s forearms as if he would find purchase that way. During all this, the younger can’t help but notice the incubus’ wispy tail flicking around, brushing against his thigh every so often, reminding him of its presence. In a spur of the moment idea, Jackson gives the appendage a small tug near the base, causing the demon’s eyes to snap open and a sharp exhale to leave his lips. Mark looks just as surprised as Jackson feels. Experimentally, the younger increases the pressure on his tail, and the noises the demon makes becomes all the more desperate. _Interesting_.

“I’m close, please, Jackson--” Mark cuts himself off with a whine, precum trickling down from his slit and onto Jackson’s fingers in copious amounts when the younger doesn’t let up on his ministrations. He teases the demon for a few more moments before he decides to move on. Just as Jackson is about to reach over to grab lube from the nightstand, something slick dribbles against his fingertips. The substance is not precum upon closer inspection. Jackson raises an eyebrow at Mark, who seems the slightest bit embarrassed.

“You’re...wet,” the younger observes.

Mark nods. “Convenient, right? _”_

“But what about condoms?”

“I can’t transmit or get STDs. Now _come on.”_

Jackson complies, opting to take a straightforward approach this time and inserts two of his fingers into Mark’s hole at once, waiting a second or two before he begins moving. He scissors and stretches Mark the best he can with how tight Mark is. And hot. Figuratively and literally. The demon muffles a whimper into the pillow, hands fisting at the sheets. Although he isn’t fully relaxed by a long shot, Mark shows no indication that he wants to stop or slow down, if the insistent rocking of his hips onto his fingers is anything to go by. Jackson can’t help but lick his lips at the sight. The muscles in the incubus’ thighs are straining, and his lips are over-bitten and swollen red. He looks so different from the suave, perfectly put together demon that first appeared in his bedroom; from the mysterious, inhuman being Jackson first saw him as.

All Jackson can think about now is how much he wants to be inside him, how much he wants to make them both feel good.

After he deems the incubus prepared enough, Jackson lines himself up, nudging the head of his cock against Mark’s slick, twitching entrance. He slides in with one fluid thrust, pushing past the ring of muscle and embedding himself fully into the demon’s insides.

Once he’s in, it’s definitely a tight fit. Mark is searing and wet around his length and clenching down almost to the point of pain. But _fuck_ if it doesn’t feel like euphoria, and the way the demon’s face is contorted in pleasure sends a fresh wave of desire through him. Mark is whining so sweetly every time Jackson shifts inside him, and even though the younger is quite certain the sounds he’s making are from how good it feels, Jackson murmurs a quiet “you okay?” to make sure they’re on the same page.

The demon blinks up at him with half-lidded eyes clouded in lust, “More than okay.”

Jackson doesn’t bother waiting much longer, spreading Mark’s thighs apart and thrusting in with renewed vigor, starting at a relentless pace. He aims for that certain spot inside Mark and after a couple tries, he eventually finds it, brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves with each frenzied thrust. Before long, Mark’s moans are ringing throughout the room without restraint, a constant melody, mixing with Jackson’s own labored breaths. Everything is so hot between them, the air heated and charged. The continuous friction of their connected bodies slicked with sweat, Mark’s little noises below him, their increasingly frantic movements, the way Mark whimpers into his mouth when he goes in for a kiss--the combined sensations have Jackson nearing the edge all too easily.

Mark climaxes first, untouched, stripes of white painting his belly as Jackson chases after his own release, feeling Mark tighten around him. He continues for a while longer before he’s also coming in hard spurts, filling up the demon with a low groan. Then they collapse in a heap of exhausted limbs, coming down from their highs. It’s silent for a bit, save for their breathing, until Jackson breaks it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Satisfied. You were satisfactory,” the demon tells him after a few moments.

Jackson scoffs, pulling out and rolling off of him. “That’s it? With the way you were screaming like someone was murdering you? I’d say I was _phenomenal.”_

“I did not scream.”

“Really. I thought I heard, ‘ _please Jackson, harder!’”_ the younger mimics in a high pitched voice.

Mark becomes a sputtering mess at the crude imitation, cheeks blooming pink as he shoves a palm over Jackson’s mouth in mortification. “I don’t sound like that,” the demon insists, more to assure himself than anyone else. He yanks his shirt and underwear back on, looking anywhere but at the other.

“Sure, sure,” Jackson grins. After a pause, he adds, “So...you have to go now, right?”

Mark shrugs lazily, not bothering with his shorts. “I could.”

But before they can continue their conversation any further, the sound of the front door unlocking catches Jackson’s attention, and he realizes that Jaebum said he’d be home around this time. He panics a little. Jackson has no idea how to explain that hey, he might’ve accidentally summoned a demon into the mortal realm and perhaps slept with him too. On top of that, Mark seems to have not noticed (or he doesn’t care) about the front door opening and is currently lazing around on the bed with no intention of moving. The incubus is covered in bites and marks, just like himself, he’s sure.

Despite the obvious evidence spelling out their previous activities, Jackson still hurries to hide Mark under the bed, the older grumbling the whole time. Finally Mark is out of sight, just as two people burst through the door. One is a man Jackson has never seen before; he has a pretty face and is wearing a thick coat that seems to swallow him whole. The other person he recognizes--Jaebum.

And he’s wielding a loaded crossbow that’s currently aimed straight at his face.

“Where is he?” his roommate questions sternly, eyes darting around the room.

Jackson is suddenly frozen on the spot in confusion and fear. He can't move, can't speak. A million thoughts are racing through his mind, and he's struggling to recover from whiplash.

What the _fuck_ is happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone, so I realize that it literally took months to get this chapter out. 
> 
> For those who would like to know, I just kind of felt unmotivated all the time. I had so much schoolwork piling up, didn't have energy (I have trouble falling asleep; anyone have any tips to help remedy this? Calming songs and warm milk don't help me lol), and when I did have some energy, I just wasn't in the mood to write. Writing, for me at least, is a long process in itself. I often change/add words or rewrite certain parts because I'm not 100% satisfied by how it turns out or sounds. I also try to take into account people's feedback in the comments: such as what readers liked, did not like, were confused about, or wanted to see more of. As a result, I procrastinated on this chapter big time.
> 
> I do plan to continue and finish this story, however. I'll try to work on my updating speed, but no promises >_< I am taking classes all throughout summer break (June - August) so idk how that'll turn out.  
> \----
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please feel free to comment any feedback/thoughts/questions. I appreciate every one of you guys~


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